


Tucked in Moonlight

by Nito



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But who knows where this will go? Even i dont know, Everyone will show up at some point lol, F/F, Female Lavellan - Freeform, Female Solas, Herald... Theyre Lesbians, Slow Burn, older inquisitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-29 00:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13915512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nito/pseuds/Nito
Summary: In Which Solas is a woman, and the author rewrites the parts of Inquisition that she disagrees with. Solas is still named Solas, because surely pride is gender neutral. This fic also uses Solas’ original concept art, not the in-game design.





	1. Into the Frying Pan

\--  
Sarangerel Lavellan grasped at her wrist, searing pain ripping its way through the palm of her hand. The shem woman in front of her – the other lady had called her Cassandra – led her through a path of corpses and near-corpses, the scent of death and flame burning her nose. Sarangerel frowned. Were she not in the position of prisoner, heretic, and possible murderer, she would have offered to help heal the wounded and comfort the dying.

She doubted that Cassandra would stop for anything less than her death. 

After some stumbles, they finally reached the second bridge. “How much longer-“ Sarangerel began, only to be silenced by the bridge exploding into rubble.  
Dusting herself off and clambering to her feet, Sarangerel looked around the frozen lake. 

“Stay behind me!” Cassandra yelled, before barreling into a demon with terrifying ferocity.

“And what about the – shit – other demon?!” Sarangerel yelled back, narrowly missing a swipe of a shade’s claws. Giving herself some space between her and the demon, Sarangerel looked around for a weapon, or at this rate, anything that could possibly channel magic. 

The staff would do, even though it wasn’t as good as the one the Keeper had made for her. 

It took short work for the both of them to take out the shades, and also not long for Cassandra to point her sword at Sarangerel’s throat. Great.

“You know, I am rather tired of being threatened… Cassandra.” _‘Was it impolite to call shems by their first name like that? Was Cassandra her first name, even? Shit, she’s talking again-‘_

“Drop your weapon. Now. I will not threaten you unless you do something that requires my intervention.” 

Sarangerel unceremoniously dropped her staff. “You do realize that I don’t need a staff to cast magic? I mean, all things considered I could probably pick up that barrel and fire off spells through that.”

Cassandra lowered her sword, but she remained stiff. “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

“Well, I’m on your side, aren’t I?”

Something in Cassandra softened, the both of them recognizing the absurdity of their current situation. “You’re right. You should be able to defend yourself. Let us move on.”  


They made their way across the frozen lake and climbed another hill, which continued to be indistinguishable from the rest of the terrain. Carefully stepping over rubble, corpses, and weird Fade-meteor-shit, it seemed as if they were making no progress.

“We are getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting.” Cassandra looked back at her. The backdrop of explosions, screams, and swords clanging had become almost as natural as the birds singing or the fire crackling.

“Who is fighting? An army?” Sarangerel’s mind whirled. Could they have pulled together a military force this quickly?

“If an army is anyone who can a sword, then yes. We must help them.” With that, Cassandra beckoned for her to follow as she jumped off a stone wall, and into the fray.  


A fray of shem soldiers, demons, and a ghastly green rip in the sky that matched her hand. _‘Not exactly my idea of a good time,’_ Sarangerel thought, before ignoring her instincts and falling into the thick of battle.

It came easily enough. A barrier here, some lightning there, and if she was desperate, a good thwack on the head from her staff. 

A smooth hand clasps hers and before she can react, a voice says: “Quickly, before more come through!” Green light pours out of her hand towards the rift, sealing it shut.

“What… did you do?” Sarangerel manages between gasps. She looked behind her, at the person who was grasping her hand, and gasps. _‘Not from exhaustion’,_ an obnoxious voice in Sarangerel’s head snickered. 

She was the most peculiar elf Sarangerel had ever seen. Tanned skin with no vallaslin, long brown locs piled high on her head, and piercing black eyes that were currently looking at her with... Amusement?

“I did nothing. The credit is yours.” And, Creators damn her, the woman smiled.

“You mean… this mark on my hand?” Sarangerel wiggled her fingers, having been let go from the other woman’s hold. _‘Just… don’t think about her voice. Or how soft her hands were. Listen to the words, idiot.’_ Sarangerel thought to herself hopelessly, and to no avail.

The woman nodded, as if she was a Keeper pleased with her student. “The magic on your hand and the magic that has rent open the sky are one and the same, as I theorized. I had hoped that the mark could also be used to close the rifts – and it appears that I was correct.” Her smile changed into something more self-satisfied.

 _‘That’s going to get annoying soon, isn’t it?’_ Sarangerel mused.

Cassandra cleared her throat lightly. “So the mark could close the Breach itself?”

“It is possible.” The woman turned to face Sarangerel. “It appears you hold the key to our salvation.”

Sarangerel sighed. Of course she did. She was supposed to be helping the clan, raising her children, providing wisdom and advice for the next generation of elvehn. The Keeper always told her that she would do great things. Wasn’t healing great enough?

“Well that’s good to know! I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever!” The dwarf had snuck up behind her so quietly Sarangerel had to stop herself from jumping. 

“Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasional unwelcome tagalong.” Varric smiled at Sarangerel and winked – winked! – at Cassandra, who scowled back at him.

“A pleasure to meet you, Varric,” Sarangerel said, nodding her head at him. Perhaps he had gone mad, judging by his interactions with Cassandra, so maybe she could divert attention back to herself.

“You may reconsider that stance in time,” said the still unnamed elf. “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.”

Ah. Pride. Interesting. _‘File that away for later.’_

“I am pleased to see you still live.” Solas said, with a slight nod of her head.

“What she means is, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’” Varric chuckled. 

“Oh. Ma serannas, Solas. How exactly- “Another meteor explosion cut off the rest of Sarangerel’s sentence.

“Come, we must get to the forward camp quickly!” Cassandra wasted no time climbing over a pile of rubble, leading the way to the path into the valley, and Varric strolled after her, as if he were walking through a meadow instead of a battlefield.

Solas turned, giving Sarangerel a wry smile. “You may thank me if we manage to close the Breach with no more lives lost.”

“You are talking about my life, yes? I certainly hope that is the case. We should hurry.” Sarangerel gripped her staff and used it to vault herself over the debris in front of them. Solas followed with an unexpected grace. 

How interesting, indeed.

-

The journey to the forward camp was filled with demons and awkward conversation, and Sarangerel couldn’t decide which was worse. Besides the fact that Solas seemed distrustful and also somehow condescending towards her people, and Cassandra watching her with what was probably deserved suspicion, the mark on her hand continued to pulse and crackle in time with the Breach.

And the forward camp itself wasn’t much better.

Another rift, and enough Chantry folk to start another Exalted March, was just about all she could take for the time being. 

“- We must elect a replacement for the Divine, and obey her orders, but for now, the prisoner will be taken to Val Royeaux for judgement.” A man in Chantry garb and a permanent scowl practically snarled at her.

“Correct me if I’m wrong… ser, but wouldn’t you say that the giant rip in the sky the more pressing issue? You know, the one the currently has demons pouring out of it.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw the corner of Solas’ mouth twitch.

Roderick appeared to ignore her. “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”

“No. We can stop this before it’s too late, Chancellor. We gather our forces and make our way to the temple by force. It is the fastest route.”

“But it’s not the safest. While our forces charge we can go through the mountains, we can still make it to the Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Leliana said, gesturing to the map in front of them.

“How do you think we should proceed?” Cassandra said, turning towards Sarangerel.

“Now you’re asking me what I think, Seeker? Less than an hour ago I was chained up! And now you want me to decide the lives of countless men?” Sarangerel gripped the hem of her armor. 

“You have the mark,” Solas’ calm voice pointed out. “It is you that we must keep alive. And since no one else seems to be able to make a decision…”

“Comforting, Solas, thank you. However, I refuse to allow more men to die for me. If we charge with the soldiers, surely fewer lives will be lost. I will not survive long enough for whatever trial you may have planned.” Sarangerel ignored the throbbing in her palm. “Whatever happens, happens now.”

-

The route to the temple deteriorated quickly, to say the least. Burning bodies and other small fires littered the path, filling the air with smoke and death. The rifts were appearing more regularly now, and even the blond shem they met – was he truly their Commander? – seemed to be growing tired.

As Sarangerel and her troupe approached the temple, she felt her stomach flip. Charred bodies frozen in the place that they died, like charcoal statues.  


“The Temple of Sacred Ashes…” Solas murmured behind her.

“Well, what’s left of it,” Varric said, subdued. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you,” Cassandra said weaving through a pair of corpses. “They said there was a woman in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”

Somehow, the inside of the temple was even worse. The disembodied voice was unsettling, and the red lyrium that Varric pointed out sent a chill through Sarangerel’s spine.

Disregarding the fact that she was the last person to see Divine Justinia before the temple exploded, there was another mysterious figure in the room when the explosion occurred. 

Also, they were currently fighting one of the largest demons that Sarangerel had ever had the displeasure of seeing.

Sarangerel alternated between flinging her hand at the rift and firing off lightning at the demon which, if she was being honest didn’t seem to be doing much. But finally, just as everyone had reached their limit, the rift sealed shut for good, and everything faded into darkness.

-

Sarangerel awoke, mouth dry and head pounding. It was far past the time to wake the children for breakfast, what had she done last night – _‘Oh. Shit.’_

At that moment the door opened, and Sarangerel forced herself to stand, just in case she was about to be interrogated. Again.

But if this young elven woman was there to interrogate her, it didn’t start off very well. In fact, she immediately dropped her box of herbs with a startled yelp.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!”

“It’s all right, da’len, I only just-“ And then the young elf fell to her knees, hands clasped.

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant. You’re back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us! The Breach has stopped growing, just like that mark on your hand!” The woman blushed, as if she wasn’t supposed to say that. “It’s all anyone has talked about for the past three days!”

“Wait… three days? I’ve been unconscious for that long?” Sarangerel looked down at the elf, who nodded her head fiercely in reply. “Then… the danger is over?”

The woman nodded less excitedly this time, and looked away. “The Breach… is still in the sky, but that’s what they say! My lady, Seeker Pentaghast will want to know you’ve wakened! She said at once!” And with that the elf bolted out of the room.

Now who in the void was Seeker Pentaghast? A friend of Cassandra’s perhaps?

Sarangerel smoothed out her clothes and tried not to think about the fact that someone had to have dressed her, judging by the tan atrocity she was wearing. 

Outside the small cabin, soldiers lined the path, saluting her as she walked. Whispers of her arrest and sealing of the Breach followed her as she made her way to the Chantry. Or to where she hoped the Chantry was, as it was impossible to break through the crowd of soldiers.

No familiar faces appeared in the crowd – although Cassandra was apparently waiting for her at the Chantry, but Varric and Solas were nowhere to be found.

Inside, the Chantry was a lot darker than Sarangerel imagined. _‘Perhaps the Chant of Light is more literal than I thought?’ _she mused.__

__Electing to ignore the discussion about her fate, Sarangerel burst through the doorway at the end of the hall._ _

__“Chain her! I want her ready for travel to Val Royeaux for trial!” Roderick, still scowling pointed at her._ _

__“Ah. That’s still happening?” Sarangerel placed both hands on the large table before her._ _

__Cassandra scoffs. “Disregard that, and leave us.” Amazingly, the guards follow suit. As they leave, Cassandra pulls out a large book. “Do you know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine, giving us permission to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” Chancellor Roderick begins to sputter in outrage, but before he can form words, Cassandra backs him up against the wall._ _

__“We will close the Breach, we will find those, responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval.” Roderick storms out, and suddenly Sarangerel wishes she could do the same._ _

__“I imagine you’ll need my help?” Sarangerel looked at the two women in front of her. “When I woke up, this certainly wasn’t the outcome I pictured. But I would like to help restore order, if I can.”_ _

__“That is the plan,” Leliana says._ _

__“Help us restore order before it is too late.” Cassandra looks and Sarangerel, studying her. “We will need your cooperation.”_ _

__“I understand. Just show me where to point this thing.” Sarangerel wiggles the fingers on her marked hand, and Cassandra looks unimpressed._ _

__Cassandra closes the large book in front of her and looks from Sarangerel to Leliana. “We have our work cut out for us, don’t we?”_ _

__\--_ _


	2. Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's lots of conversation, erotic hand touching, and bad one-liners. Also I hate the Chantry

\--

Haven was about as far from Clan Lavellan as could be. It was a journey of several weeks to travel from the Free Marches, through the Waking Sea to Ferelden, and now the distance seemed much greater. The snowy peaks at Haven seemed like another world entirely.

The homes and Chantry of Haven were also entirely unfamiliar to Sarangerel, with their oak foundations there would be no moving the village.

And, including herself, there were maybe a dozen elves in Haven at any time. Which by itself was something wholly unfamiliar, and uncomfortable. Clan Lavellan was no stranger to shems, but there was always caution. But now, for some Creators-be-damned reason, they were looking to her for direction.

If Keeper Deshanna could see her now, she’d probably laugh herself to death.

Being Clan Lavellan’s First for the better part of two decades meant that Sarangerel was familiar with the nuances of leadership, but an army of the holy was out of her depth. Perhaps if Deshanna had actually inducted her as Keeper, she wouldn’t be in this mess.  

“Lavellan? If I may have a moment?”

Hearing her surname pronounced correctly brought Sarangerel out of her musings. She blinked her eyes, dry from the fire in front of her, and looked up.

It was that gorgeous mage from before.

“Yes, Solas, right? I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear someone get the emphasis on ‘Lavellan’ correct. But you needed something?”

Solas raised a delicate brow. “It would be fair to presume that some of your companions’ pronunciation is… lacking, yes?”

“Oh, they absolutely butcher it. But they’re trying, and I suppose that is enough.”

“Perhaps.” Solas moved to sit down, as she tended to tower over the other elf already. “But perhaps they should learn. It is your name, after all.”

“I suppose.” Sarangerel said with a shrug. “Surely you didn’t sit down to listen to me gripe about something so trivial?”

“No, but it’s not unwelcome,” Solas replied, carefully tucking a loc behind her ear. “I was merely wondering how you, a Dalish elf, were faring in your current situation. Your… advisors insisted on meeting for most of the day.”

“Well, there was a lot to discuss. Fate of the world, and all that. They want me there when they discuss the Inquisition’s next steps, apparently. Not that I have any solutions to the Mage-Templar war.” Sarangerel huffed.

“Do they… want solutions to the Mage-Templar war?”

“The Breach takes priority, of course. But I imagine that will be next. We’ll be traveling to the Hinterlands within the week, to meet some Chantry Sister or Mother or something. Leliana said that it will help us gain legitimacy, but I’m a Dalish mage with a magic mark on her hand. I don’t exactly scream trustworthy.” Sarangerel rubbed absently at her wrist. Keeper Deshanna’s voice was screaming in her head, scolding her for being foolish – should she really be sharing this information with someone outside of her advisors? She wasn’t one to share her worries often, but Solas had something disarming, if not charming, about her.

“Does it trouble you?”

“Hm?”

“The mark. Does it trouble you? I can look at it, if you wish.”

Sarangerel looked at the other woman. She seemed genuinely concerned, if not curious, about the mark’s effects.

“It doesn’t hurt, but it’s hard to explain. Sort of… tingly? Not unlike when using magic. But here,” Sarangerel said, holding out her marked hand towards Solas. “Perhaps you can see if it’s changed since the Breach.”

Solas took her hand gingerly, as if she were holding a delicate piece of pottery, long fingers brushing over Sarangerel’s wrist and the back of her hand. Warm, green healing magic swirled around the mark, investigating. It was quiet for a few moments while Solas prodded at her hand with magic, only interrupted by the fire popping and crackling.

“So… The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero to save us all,” Solas murmured, focused on her hand. It was more a question than anything, and Sarangerel felt as if her hand wasn’t the only thing Solas was considering.

“I have no interest in being a hero… I just want to find a way to seal the Breach.”

“Pragmatic, but ultimately irrelevant.” A careful finger brushed along the pad of her thumb, towards the edge of the mark. “In my journeys into the Fade I’ve seen ruins and battlefields, dreams and tombstones of lost civilizations. I’ve watched as spirits reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten. Every war has its heroes. I’m just curious what kind you’ll be.”

“In your _‘journeys into the Fade’_ , did you see what happens to the Dalish heroes? Like the Hero of Ferelden? They end up dead.” Magic prods along the edges of the mark, asking to be let in. It distracts Sarangerel momentarily from their conversation, and she watches as Solas effortlessly weaves magic through the mark. It wasn’t exactly healing magic, but Sarangerel could tell it was old, like nothing the Keeper had ever taught her.

“Then you are pragmatic to a fault, Lavellan. But perhaps that is what this war needs. I will stay then, at least until the Breach has been closed.”

“Was that in doubt, Solas?” She sees a ghost of a smile on Solas’ face.

“I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces, and unlike you, I do not have a Divine mark protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but surely you understand my caution.”

“Of course. But, just like me, you are here to help. They’ll listen to me, at any rate, and I won’t let anything happen to you.” Her hand twitched as Solas inspected the mark further.

“You would stop them?”

“However I had to.”

“Thank you. For now, let us hope either the mages or the templars have enough power to seal the Breach.” Solas let her magic fade out slowly, so as not to irritate the mark. “How does that feel?”

Sarangerel wiggled her fingers, feeling for any tingling or numbness. “It feels… Normal. How did you do that?” Sarangerel had studied magic, healing magic, all her life and had never seen anything close to that.

“Magic,” the woman said with a smirk, stood, and wandered off into the night. Although it was so abrupt she may as well have bolted off into the woods.

_‘Her pride is going to be the death of me, isn’t it?’_

Sarangerel stood, aware of how late it was by where Equinor was in the sky. It was frustrating how Solas managed to reveal so little about herself and yet talk circles around her. She would have to find out more about the apostate mage if Solas was going to watch her back.

She walked back to her cabin, missing the forest more and more with every step. It’s not like she couldn’t go and sleep in one of the trees of Haven’s forest, but Sarangerel imagined that her advisors would not be amused. But she was a grown woman, wasn’t she? Let them find her in a tree, for all she cared.

Okay she cared a little.

Sarangerel was brought out of her internal reverie by the sight of another lit fire, the one Varric usually stood by. And, not surprisingly, Varric was still there.

“Still up, Varric? What’s the shem phrase… Burning the midnight oil?” Sarangerel walked up behind him.

“Ha, you could say that. Just finishing up some letters for the Merchant’s Guild. Apparently, a hole in the sky is bad for business. Who knew?” Varric shook his head. “I saw you talking to Chuckles earlier. And maybe some hand-holding?” He looked at her with a grin, and she could practically see a new story forming in his head.

“She was just checking up on the mark, Varric. Someone’s nosy.” Although she had to admit, to outsiders it had probably looked… Very interesting.

Varric put his hands up in a self-defense gesture. “Alright, alright, if you say so, kid.”

“Varric. We are the same age.”

“Are we?”

“Yes. Unless you’re actually in your twenties and you’ve just seen some shit.”

“Unfortunately, only one of those things are true.” Varric chuckled, sealing up the last of his letters.

“Get some rest, okay Varric? We leave for the Hinterlands soon.” Sarangerel moved to leave.

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Lavellan.” And with an exaggerated bow and matching grin, Varric left in the direction of his cabin.

Sarangerel walked into her small cabin, laid down in her unfamiliar bed, and stared at a thatched roof instead of the stars. With the mark calmed, sleep came easier than usual.

-

Without horses, it took several weeks for Sarangerel and her companions to reach the Hinterlands. And once there, it was obvious as to why it was a priority.

“You know, I’m getting pretty sick of humans in robes!” Sarangerel yelled, electrocuting two more mages and a sellsword.

“Tell me about it!” Varric yelled back, firing Bianca at another sellsword.

The waves of mages and templars kept coming, and Sarangerel wasn’t sure it was every going to stop, until Cassandra finally gave the all-clear.

“Now, to find the… Revered Mother?” Lavellan looked to Cassandra for assurance that she had gotten title right. Cassandra gave a near imperceptible nod of her head.

“Right.” Sarangerel walked over to the nearest person in Inquisition uniform, who informed her that Mother Giselle was just up the hill.

“Mother Giselle?” The woman was tending to an injured soldier, and greeted her with a warm smile as she stood.

“I am. And you must be the one they are calling the Herald of Andraste,” she said, her Orlesian accent adding some flair to the title.

“You asked for me?”

“Yes. I know of the Chantry’s denouncement and am familiar with those behind it. Some of them are grandstanding, hoping to become the next Divine. Some are frightened, because of what happened at the Conclave. So many good people were lost. But hopefully those that remain are not beyond reason.”

“What do you suggest then?” Sarangerel studied the woman’s face. She would have no reason to lie. Probably.

“They fear you. A Dalish elf, walking out of the Fade? They have only heard frightening stories. Give them something else to believe.”

“So… what? Do I get rid of my tattoos? Or my ears? I am who I am, Mother Giselle, and I fear that that is all the Chantry will see. I don’t want to make things even worse.”

“Could things be worse than they are?”

“Yes.”

“Allow me to rephrase, Herald. If you cause them to doubt, take away their unified voice, then you will have the time you need to fix the Breach.”

Sarangerel frowned. While it wouldn’t solve the problem entirely, it would get the Chantry off the Inquisition’s back for the time being. But that would mean going to where all the Chantry people meet, wherever that was. Which, come to think of it, would also cause Keeper Deshanna to die from laughter. Or shock.

“Herald – you must give the people something to believe in. Right now, hope is all they have.”

“Thank you for your advice, Revered Mother.” Sarangerel nodded her head towards the woman. Hopefully humans still took that as a sign of respect.

Sarangerel walked back over to her companions, who were waiting politely out of earshot.

“Looks like we’re going on another trip. I would like to help clean up the Hinterlands first, however, and get the Inquisition some horses.” Sarangerel brushed off her armor lightly. Why were the Hinterlands so dusty? “Mother Giselle recommended I meet with the Chantry, to try and… destabilize them, I suppose. Quite revolutionary.”

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. Varric snorted. Solas looked nonplussed.

“Really? Is that what she said, Herald?” Cassandra said, regaining her voice.

“Mostly. She wants me to make a few of them doubt – to think that I really could be Andraste’s Herald, ridiculous as it is. If they disagree long enough, we can get things done without the Chantry breathing down our necks.”

Cassandra furrowed her brow, frowning. “As true as that may be… There is no reason why you cannot be the Herald of Andraste.”

“Well in that case, Cassandra, why can’t I be Mythal’s? Surely I could be acting out her will and providence?”

“I believe that is unlikely, Lavellan,” Solas spoke up behind them. “The gods are in the Beyond, are they not?”

“Sure, but who knows where the Maker is. Although, I would say we have much bigger problems than where the Maker or the Creators are. Like the hole in the sky.” And with that, Sarangerel started jogging down the path towards the edge of the Crossroads.

“Are you all coming? There’s a ton of rifts out there, if Corporal Vale is to be believed!”

“I thought we were going to stop talking about beliefs, Violet!” Varric said, picking up his pace so he could keep up with the Inquisitor.

“I am! Also, Violet?” Varric had already established his penchant for nicknames, and Sarangerel was thankful it wasn’t anything like Chuckles.”

“Yeah. It’s used for healing, and Orlesians like to say it symbolizes faith and passion, but they’re a weird bunch.”

“Varric, two questions. One: can my nickname be another name? Violet is a human name, yes? And two: why do you know so much about flowers?” Sarangerel hopped over several roots that were sticking out of the ground.

“Hey, a writer never shares his sources,” Varric said with a wink. “Besides, I kind of have a theme going.”

Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violets are also the lesbian flower lmao. Also I think that Varric thinks he’s REAL slick, what with his giving his Dalish pals flower nicknames.
> 
> Comments and kudos sustain me!

**Author's Note:**

> My Inquisitor and her clan are based loosely on the Mongolian/Buryat ethnic groups, which will become more evident in time, and if you want to see her, follow the link! https://imgur.com/a/Dp5un
> 
> Unbeta’d so be gentle! I promise it’ll be less of a play-by-play as we go on, it’s just that getting to the title sequence… is rough. This is like my second Dragon Age fic and definitely the largest undertaking, so comments and constructive criticism is appreciated!! (Also I tried to fix all the formatting errors I could, there may be a few small mistakes that I missed!)


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